by Beth Michele
I’m not a developer at a software corporation. I own the whole fucking company. My worth is almost a hundred million dollars but I can’t tell Autumn that. When she looks at me with those intense blue eyes, there’s a slight stabbing at my gut, but the guilt isn’t enough to make me tell her the truth. She seems to like me, or maybe she just likes fucking me. Either way, I’m not telling her who I really am.
“So have you always lived in New York,” she asks, as I begin lightly tracing patterns on her thigh. She shivers, and it makes me smile. I love how my touch affects her. Although, who am I kidding, my dick got hard the moment I laid eyes on her.
She’s not like the women I’m used to, flashy and overbearing. There’s an innocence about her and it’s a welcome change. I’ve become too accustomed to dating women who remind me of my mother. A bitter taste makes its way up my throat. There’s something very sick about that, especially since my hatred for her runs so deep.
“Yes, I’ve always lived there,” I reply, “I’m a city boy born and bred.” My fingers inch their way up her supple skin and she squirms, her toes clawing at the sheets. “Autumn,” my voice lowers, “you like my hands on you, don’t you sweetheart?”
Her throat moves on a soft swallow and she peers up at me from the corner of her eye, a breathy response floating from her lips. “Yes,” she admits softly, her answer almost a whimper, and my cock twitches in response. I want inside her pussy again.
There’s a knock on the door that interrupts our moment. “Saved by room service,” I tease, before throwing the covers over her deliciously naked body. She giggles from underneath and my lips curl.
She’s adorable.
I slide my t-shirt over my head and let the guy in who, from the big lump underneath the covers, probably thinks I’ve committed some sort of crime. He rolls the cart in with our feast and I realize Autumn was right. I ordered enough food for an army.
After giving him a generous tip, I close the door behind him and Autumn throws off the covers. “It’s boiling under here. Hurry up with that food before I pass out again.”
My eyes thicken and I glare at her. Ever since my father died of a heart attack in front of me when I was sixteen years old, the sight of someone falling to the ground makes my chest ache.
I miss him. He’s the one person in my life who let me, be me. He’d certainly be bowled over if he could see me now.
When I was young, I wanted to be a fireman, probably like every other little boy on the planet, so owning a successful software company would have come as a complete surprise, but he would’ve been proud. He was always proud of me. My heart expands at the thought.
“Yoohoo, earth to Hunter. There’s a hungry naked person over here.” Autumn’s melodic tone drags me back to the now, and I push the cart over toward the bed.
“So, what do you want to start with?” I ask, lifting up the silver platters one at a time.
“I’ll start with the apple pie,” she sings, a beaming smile lifting her cheeks.
“Starting with dessert? You can’t do that. Dessert is last,” I profess, shoveling a French fry in my mouth, realizing just how hungry I am, too.
“Who says? There are no rules for food order,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest, and my eyes are drawn to the nipple peeking out there.
Fuck the food order.
I jump on the bed, tackling her, my tongue lashing out to take her nipple into my mouth. She wriggles beneath me, her legs instantly surrounding my hips, my cock nestled against her pussy.
“Hunter, I-I need—”
“Yes, sweetheart, tell me what you need,” I murmur, sucking the hard tip, flicking it around with my tongue.
“I need… ahh,” she moans, tugging me closer, and I’m desperate to be buried inside her again.
“Yes?”
“I need… f-food.” She laughs, and I groan in frustration before seeking out my revenge by biting her nipple.
I drop my head against her chest, willing my cock to calm down. “Well, we better eat then. You’re going to need your sustenance to get through the night.”
We sit side by side and begin to make a dent in all this food. I shake my head as I watch her polish off her apple pie first. I’ve never met anyone who eats dessert before their main course.
“Really, Autumn. Who eats dessert before their meal? You’re quite unique,” I remark, taking a bite of the juicy cheeseburger.
“This is really bothering you isn’t it?” she teases as she rubs it in, closing her eyes, making a pleasurable noise, savoring the taste. “Here”—she holds out her fork to me—“try it,” she prods, and I open for her as she pushes the fork into my mouth. She’s right. It’s delectable.
“Yeah, okay. You got me. It’s good. But, I still wouldn’t eat it first.”
A few minutes of comfortable silence pass between us. It’s nice because I don’t feel the need to talk or try to impress her. I let out a sigh, a wave of calm rolling over me.
“So can I ask you something?” she says, finally breaking the quiet.
Maybe I spoke too soon.
“Sure.”
“Why did you get so annoyed before? You know, when I passed out. You seemed angry. Did I do something to upset you?”
There’s something so pure about the way she asks the question, as if she’s worried that she’s done something wrong, making me want to set her straight immediately.
I place the burger down on the plate, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “No, Autumn. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I exhale a harsh breath, the memory alive and well in the recesses of my mind.
“Dad,” I said, “the ball game was awesome. The Yankees kicked ass.”
He glared at me, but his mouth turned up in a smile. “You’re right, son, they did kick ass. I’m glad we were able to get tickets for the game. You want to go grab a pizza before we head home?”
“Yeah, let’s do it. I’m starving.”
We walked a few more blocks when suddenly Dad stopped. I noticed he was short of breath.
“Dad, you okay?” I asked, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he clutched at his chest. His face turned pale before his huge body dropped to the ground as if it weighed nothing. “Dad!” I shouted, watching his face etched in pain. I sank to my knees, yanking the cell phone from his pocket to call 911. “Stay with me, Dad, please stay with me.” My own chest hurt, eyes filled with tears seeing my dad sprawled out on the sidewalk, feeling completely helpless as I waited for the ambulance.
I held his hand tightly in mine, continuing to talk to him, to keep him with me. “Dad, you’re going to be okay. Stay with me, come on, Dad.” His eyes began to glaze over, his breathing slowed and I feared I was losing him. By the time the ambulance came, death had taken him from me.
“You’ll always be my hero, Dad,” I cried, laying my head on his chest for the last time.
I meet Autumn’s eyes as the memory fades away. “My dad. He died of a heart attack, right in front of me when I was sixteen. Fell to the ground, and then I lost him.”
“Oh, Hunter. I’m so sorry.” She lays her hand on top of mine, my insides warming at the gesture. It’s like a zap of comfort to my soul. My own mother didn’t even hold my hand when he died. The last time a woman put their hand in mine, it was to take a wad of bills for an impending shopping spree.
I’m just getting used to the feel of her hand when she pulls it away. “I really am sorry,” she expresses again, before cramming French fries in her mouth as if she needs to keep her hands occupied.
“Thanks. Hey, take it easy there, I mean, I know you’re hungry and all. If you didn’t want to hold my hand, all you had to do was say so.”
Her cheeks color pink and she picks up her glass, hiding behind the rim of it. As I tilt my head to the side, watching her, I’m realizing she’s a bit of an enigma; shy yet funny, repressed yet very sexual, caring yet apprehensive.
That’s when something occurs to me. “By the way, who’s Charlie? That’s not a boyfr
iend, is it?”
Her lips quirk into an endearing smile and she giggles. “No, Charlie is my dog, not my boyfriend.” The smile on her face quickly disappears, her mouth pulling down into a frown. “If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be here with you,” she responds, bitterness lacing her tone. “Why? Please don’t tell me you have a girlfriend?!”
“No,” I answer, emphatically, and she nods, a half-smile creeping across her cheeks. For some reason I like that fact that she’s pleased with my response.
The tension rolling off of her is still palpable, though, stifling the air around us. I’m not sure what I did to make that happen, or if it has anything at all to do with me, but I intend to find out.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Want to talk about what?” she replies, as if she has no clue what I’m asking.
I take the glass from her hand, setting it down on the tray. “Whatever’s got you upset all of a sudden.”
She glances down at the duvet, bunching it with her fingers. “About a year ago, I was engaged to be married,” she mutters quietly. “I walked in on him screwing another woman.”
Anger lances through me, my shoulders stiffen at her words. The need to protect her overwhelms me, even though she’s not mine. “What an asshole. I’m sorry, Autumn, but he didn’t deserve you. He obviously didn’t realize what he had.”
There’s a sprinkle of gratitude in her eyes when she lifts them to mine. “Thank you.”
“Actually, I changed my mind.” I smirk, reaching out to grasp her chin. “I meant to say supreme asshole.”
“Supreme, yes,” she laughs out, and I’m happy to see her smiling again. “Anyway, that’s water under the bridge, as they say.”
“Good. And now,” I continue, moving the tray off the bed and onto the cart, “if you’ve had enough to eat….” I pull my t-shirt over my head and shove my boxers down my legs, then crawl back on the bed, pushing her down gently. “I intend to ravage your body until you can’t walk, or even think for that matter.”
“Oh, you think so?” she flirts, eyeing my erection as I hover over her.
“Oh, I know so, sweetheart,” I reply, before trailing kisses over the line of her jaw, behind her ear, down the bend of her neck. She mewls softly as I reach her firm tits, taking extra care to lave the hard points with the tip of my tongue, loving the way her lips part, her breathing accelerates. Her body is like a finely tuned instrument; for once in my life, I’m excited to be hitting the right notes.
“Hunter,” she breathes, my name sounds so sexy cascading from her lips.
“Yes, baby. Tell me what you want.”
“I want… your tongue inside of me, I want you to… lick me,” she whispers, her cheeks warm with lust, her body so wanting, so needy. I suddenly have this primal desire to make her mine, but I don’t know how to make a woman mine, only how to fuck them and spoil them rotten.
“Christ, Autumn, hearing you talk that way makes my dick so God damn hard. I’m gonna put my tongue inside of you, and then I’m going to put my cock inside of you… all night long.”
“Yes!” She gasps, her hands gripping tightly to the sheets as I lick my way down her flesh, my tongue creating a scorching path, covering every inch of her skin. She’s already squirming and by the time I reach her pussy, sweet-sounding moans gush from her lips.
I spread her open; the sight of her glistening sex has me anxious to taste her again. She shudders the moment my tongue brushes her slit, coated with hot, slick desire, and fuck, I’m so turned on by her response to me. She raises her hips to meet my mouth, coaxing me closer, and I can’t get enough of her. I lick up and down, her wetness all over my lips and tongue, my dick so hard it’s almost painful.
She’s panting heavily, her legs falling open more, allowing me to plunge deeper. I insert two fingers, dragging them in and out, massaging her until she’s drenched. As my tongue sweeps across her swollen clit, a tremor moves through her lower body. She’s so close to where I want her, so I keep going, pleasuring her, until she screams out, “Oh God, Hunter,” before she explodes, her whole body shaking with her release. I lap up her juices, bringing her down as I slow my tongue, continuing to caress her. I’m so ready to fuck her but I want to make her feel good first. From the sated flush of her skin and the lazy smile on her face, I’d say I’ve done just that.
I find my way back to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’m going to fuck you now.” My voice is husky, the scent of her arousal on my breath.
“Yes,” she replies softly, my cock sitting against her belly, ready to take her.
“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Turn around, I want you up on your knees.”
She immediately does as I tell her; the visual of her with her ass in the air is enough to make me lose it. I draw my hand back, giving her a little smack, and she yelps, moaning when I caress her. Her ass is perfect and I’d like to claim that, too. Instead, I position myself behind her, reaching forward to rub her clit again, jumbled sounds of pleasure filling the air as she grinds against my cock. Frantic to have her now, I reach for my wallet and the condom, ripping it open and rolling it on quickly before slowly sliding inside of her. My eyes drift closed, a groan vibrating through my chest as I go deeper, rotating my hips, my name a whimper on her tongue.
The feeling of being inside her is pure bliss, my mind attempting to stay in the moment but wandering off, not able to remember a time where it felt this good to be with someone. The feel of her pussy squeezing my cock brings me back. Unable to hold on for much longer, my limbs begin to quiver, beads of sweat dripping from my hair onto her skin as I fuck her hard and fast.
“Hunter, I’m gonna come,” she pants, her words pushing me over the edge, too, as I pound into her a few more times before I come violently, muscles pulling tight, her pussy milking every last drop from my cock.
I hug her from behind, waiting for our heartbeats to slow, my tongue licking the sweat off her lower back.
There’s something different about being with her. A tingle riles my skin, this feeling foreign to me—not wanting to let go. And I’m not good at feelings. I’m good at fucking, and I always want to let women go after I fuck them.
When I finally do, we both collapse on our backs. I can still hear her breathing and when I steal a sideways glance, she’s staring at the ceiling, the edges of her lips twitching into a smile. Turning back, I stare up at the same spot.
And fuck me if I don’t have that same smile on my face, too.
Chapter Five
~Olivia~
I’ll admit that I can’t stop smiling. That felt… I have no words. A writer, at a loss for words, go figure. But who would’ve thought I’d be laying here with him—this hot, mysterious stranger who for some reason, doesn’t feel like such a stranger anymore. I think I’ve taken a liking to him. I’ve definitely grown pretty fond of his mouth and his cock, but it’s more than that.
He looks over at me, his lips turned up in a brilliant smile. “Wow, sweetheart. Is it just me or did that feel pretty incredible?”
“Yeah,” is all I can manage, because he’s right, it did. I haven’t been with tons of men, but certainly enough to know that this was different.
“Do you want to go shower?” he asks, and I don’t think I can move, never mind walk.
Smirking, I look over at him. “Um, no. I don’t think I can get up at the moment.”
“Oh.” He chuckles, recognition lighting his eyes. “I guess I worked you over pretty good.”
I bust out a laugh, clutching my belly. “Yeah, I guess you did,” I agree. I hear his cell phone chirping in the distance, but he doesn’t make any attempt to answer it.
“Aren’t you going to get that?”
He huffs out a breath, his response clipped. “No.”
It continues to ring until he hastily rises from the bed, muttering a curse. With irritated hands, he removes it from his briefcase, checking the screen before holding it up to his ear.
“What
, Scott?” he snaps. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed this weekend. Uh-huh, yes. No. Okay, well handle it. That’s what I pay—” He peers over at me. “Just handle it.” He chucks the phone in his bag before coming back to bed.
“Everything okay?” I ask, deciding I definitely wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
“Yes, just something personal that I needed to handle. It’s fine.” He plasters a smile on his face, quickly changing gears. “Now, where were we?” He fluffs a pillow up, and then lies on his side, leaning on his elbow.
I shift to my side also, mirroring his position. “So, you said you had a brother in Boston?”
“Oh shit!” he clamors, his free hand hitting his head. “I forgot to call him. He was expecting me at his apartment. I need to send him a text so he doesn’t think I went missing.” With another hurried retreat, he flies off the bed to retrieve his cell phone. His hands get busy on the keypad and after a minute, he’s shaking his head and cackling.
“What?”
“Rex has some choice words for me. They all begin with A and end in hole.” He chuckles before dropping his phone on the bed.
“Are you guys close?” I ask, as he settles himself again, his fingers doing a light tap dance on my arm, a shiver skipping down my spine.
“Eh, kind of, in an oil and water sort of way. We’re very different.”
“How so?” I ask, his touch beginning to distract me from my line of questioning, wetness building between my legs.
“Well, I work for a software company and Rex is a tattoo artist here in Boston. He’s got tattoos, used to have some piercings. It’s not about that, though, I couldn’t care less how he looks. It’s just that our views on life are different. He’s a few years younger than I am. I mean, he’s a great kid, he’s just got a rough edge.” Something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I have a chance to ask about it. “What about you? Brothers, sisters? Rabbits?”
